


Beka's Bouquets

by JiniZ



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Dates, First Time, Florist Otabek, M/M, Meet-Cute, Wedding Planning, Yuri is 18, chill people, student yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ/pseuds/JiniZ
Summary: Yuuri and Victor are getting married and have asked Yurio to pick out his own boutonniere. Yuri puts it off for several weeks but he finally manages to drag himself to the florist and oh god, he's hot.





	Beka's Bouquets

Yuri knows something’s up when his parents knock tentatively on his door.

“What?” he barks at the door.

Okay, they’re not technically his parents, but the three of them have a sort of weird familial relationship going on. They just sort of adopted him one day, no questions asked. Yuri was glad for a place to stay for a while, and they haven’t asked him to leave, so he’ll keep staying as long as they’ll let him.

Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky’s sort-of parents, are unlikely boyfriends, not having much in common at all. They met when they crashed into each other while ice skating on Town Pond three winters ago resulting in a concussion for Yuuri, a broken wrist for Victor, and a constant sense of nausea for Yuri.

“We literally fell for each other,” they like to tell people.

It’s disgusting, really.

He turns off his music, takes off his headphones and pushes himself further up the bed, dragging his legs up so he sits cross-legged. It can’t be anything good, whatever it is they want to discuss.

Yuuri pokes his head in cautiously. “Got a minute, Yurio?” he asks, using the nickname his older sister gave Yuri so as not to confuse the two.

“Of course he has a minute,” Victor says pushing the door wide open as if it’s his room and sitting on Yuri’s bed. Yuri supposes that technically it is Victor’s room, but that doesn’t stop him from scowling.

Yuri rolls his eyes. They’re always like this: Yuuri a bit timid and unassuming, Victor confident and cocksure. Their personalities are different enough that you’d think they wouldn’t work together, yet somehow they do.

“Victor, we talked about this,” Yuuri says taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You can’t just barge into Yurio’s room without permission.”

“I didn’t _barge_ into his room.” He turns to Yuri. “Did I barge into your room, Yurio? I didn’t.”

The two begin a back and forth on the proper etiquette of invitations to one’s room. Yuri just sighs and slouches down as their bickering could take a while. He’s about to ask them to get the point of this intrusion when he notices it - a bit of gold on Yuuri’s finger that wasn’t there before.

He sits up and stares at Yuuri’s hand. If that’s what he thinks it is….he looks at Victor’s hand and spies a matching bit of gold there.

“Are you kidding me?”

Yuri’s exclamation instantly quiets them.

“You’re getting married?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He sighs.

Victor, on the other hand, apparently has no such reservation. “Yes! Isn’t it wonderful, Yurio?”

“Out.” Yuri reaches for his headphones. He needs to tune this bullshit out.

“This isn’t how we meant to tell you.” Yuuri says. He nods his head toward the headphones, silently asking Yuri to wait. “Victor, move.”

Victor scoots back and Yuuri sits next to him. He’s immediately enveloped by Victor’s arms and he rests his arms over Victor’s. Victor puts his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. Their cuddling is gross.

Yuri drops the headphones and crosses his arms over his chest. His scowl would intimidate a stranger, but not his parents. He scowls harder, his hair falling in his face.

“You know we love you, Yurio,” Yuuri starts.

“He knows this, Yuuri.” Victor sighs.

“We want you to be part of the wedding.” Yuuri sounds hopeful.

“You will be my best man,” Victor says. Typical. Demanding rather than asking.

But okay, Yuri wasn’t expecting that. He softens a little. Not much, though. He still has brooding to do. “Best man?” he asks.

“Of course,” Victor says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You mean much to me, Yurio. It is only natural.”

“Who is the maid of honor?” Yuri snorts at his own joke.

“Phichit.”

Yuri cocks an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected an answer. Well, he _had_ , but he hadn’t expected Phichit. Either Mari or Yuuko, sure, and crap. Those annoying triplets will end up being flower girls. He’ll probably get stuck with them the entire time.

“Fine,” Yuri grits out. It’s all they’ll get out of him for now.

Yuuri practically launches himself at Yuri for a hug. He allows himself to be squeezed, but he doesn’t reciprocate, keeping his arms crossed. He only hugs on his own terms.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says. “Thank you.” His sincerity is almost enough to crack Yuri’s resolve.

But then Victor ruffles his hair and he’s shut it back down again. “Hey!” he yells. “OUT!”

**~oOo~**

One month before the wedding and Yuuri and Victor are no longer disgusting. They’re _insufferable_.

They work on seating arrangements. They practice their first dance in the living room after dinner. They bring home a sample of the flavors they chose for the cake. They play demos of bands they’re considering.

And all the while they stare at each other like Westley and Buttercup.

Yuri stays out of their way as much as possible, retreating to his room almost immediately whenever they start talking plans. He knows that all he has to do is show up, so he just goes about his own business ignoring their doe eyes as much as possible.

Until they ask him to get a boutonniere. He doesn’t understand why it just doesn’t come with the damned flowers they’re ordering, but they insist he needs to pick it out himself. They tell him it needs to be blue. That’s all the direction they give him. Blue.

He’ll be so glad when this whole thing is over.

Realistically, anything more than ten minutes for a ceremony is a waste of time. The ideal wedding should be:

 _Do you?_  
_Yes._  
_Do you?_  
_Yes._  
_Now kiss._

It’s a Tuesday and Yuri’s last class, _Intro to Botany_ irony of ironies, ends at 1:30, so he decides it’s as good a time as any to visit the florist. _Might as well get it over with_ , he thinks. He shrugs on his coat and pulls his hood up to dissuade anyone from talking to him on the way.

His first stop, though, is the campus coffee bar where he gets a triple venti upside down caramel macchiato, nonfat, easy whip, kid’s temp. It’s the most ridiculous drink he can think of. It’s not that he really wants something so complicated, it’s just that he enjoys watching the baristas sweat.

Okay, fine. The caffeine comes in handy when he’s studying, the nonfat and easy whip are because he doesn’t really need the calories, and it tastes pretty good, actually. He likes the kid’s temp so he can drink it right away. It’s the upside down part that’s just to be a jerk.

When the teen behind the counter calls his drink, stumbling over the order, Yuri snorts at him, eyes narrowed as he reaches for the cup. He stares at the kid while he takes a sip. It’s just how he likes it and he gives a curt nod to the teen.

Yuri hopes that the florist already knows what Yuuri and Victor want and that it won’t take long at all. _Stupid boyfriends_ , he thinks. It’s absolutely ridiculous that he needs to do this.

Along the way, though, he begins to seriously consider if he’ll need to find another place to live after the wedding. He doesn’t think Yuuri and Victor will ask him to move out, but he is eighteen now, legally a man, and not a fifteen-year-old kid in need of an authority figure.

“Shit,” he spits out in his native Russian. Maybe he can crash with Emil for a while until he figures out what to do. Georgi as a backup. JJ if he gets truly desperate.

He decides to stop thinking about it for the moment, which of course just makes him think about it more. He tries to focus on other things - his botany assignment, the latest FOB song, his stuffed cat - all of which take him right back to thinking about needing to move. The upside is that he’s reached the florist quicker than he anticipated.

Yuri spies the flower buckets on benches outside the shop before anything else. He stops just short of them, sizing them up as if they have personally offended him. They’re pretty and delicate and he hates them on sight.

He looks to the facade to confirm he’s at the right shop, but there isn’t one. Well, there isn’t much of one. All that’s left is a _BEK_ , the rest of the sign missing. He vaguely recalls Yuuri telling him the name of the shop and that it started with a B. He shrugs.

He pulls out his phone and snaps a quick picture of the flowers out front and texts it to Yuuri and Victor saying “Happy?” He immediately receives a “thumbs up” emoji from Victor and a “It won’t be that bad. I promise.” from Yuuri. If they only knew.

Yuri sighs and clicks out of the text message and into the Fandango app. Maybe he can catch a movie when this torture is over.

He’s not really paying attention to his surroundings, just relies on his periphery as he pushes the shop door open with his butt. He grimaces as the tinkling of a bell announces his presence.

“Just a minute,” a similarly accented voice calls out from the back.

Yuri doesn’t answer. _Typical_ , he thinks as he continues scrolling start times.

It takes a moment, but the chill in the shop and the smell of flowers gradually creeps into Yuri’s senses. He shivers, drawing his arms closer to his body. His nose wrinkles at the scent and he wonders how anyone can stand it.

He sneaks a glance at the refrigeration unit on the wall, noting how the condensation on the inside of the glass blurs the flowers. He watches a drop trickle down, revealing only the barest hint of clarity to the unit’s contents.

Yuri’s phone buzzes again and he looks down to see what notice he gets this time. He stares at a ridiculous picture of Georgi in some kind of retro 80s New Wave make-up, and he shakes his head. He starts to respond when he hears a voice behind him.

“Sorry about that. What can I help you with?”

Yuri turns as he types his response, not bothering to look up. “I need a boutonniere for the Katsuki-Nikiforov wedding.”

“You must be Yuri.”

The use of his name gets his attention. Yuri frowns and he turns his face to the voice’s direction. When he sees who the voice belongs to, his face goes slack and his mind kicks into overdrive.

The man standing in front of him is not what he expected, which now that he thinks about, he’s not sure what he really was expecting. Maybe someone older and - grosser - like Pete Postlethwaite in _The Town_. Instead what he’s confronted with is Ashton Kutcher in _Valentine’s Day_.

 

 

Yuri guesses he’s probably in his mid-twenties. His dark hair has an undercut buzz that is adorably messy on top. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt under a long dark green apron. He holds a potted plant, and his hands are covered in work gloves.

“How do you know my name?” Yuri practically demands, his usual bravado faltering just a bit.

The man chuckles and crosses in front of him and sets the pot of flowers on the floor by the refrigeration case. Yuri tries, and fails, not to stare at his ass as he bends over.

“Well,” the man says as he rights himself. “When Victor and Yuuri came to talk about their wedding, they told me that you’d be coming by to pick out your boutonniere. They were pretty insistent that you choose your own flowers.”

Yuri narrows his eyes. “Why?” he asks. Maybe this guy knows something he doesn’t.

“I don’t know. When I asked about attendants -”

“The what?”

“Best man, maid of honor. The wedding party. They picked out flowers for everyone. Except for you.” He moves back behind the counter, taking off his gloves as he does. He sets them on the counter and brushes his palms together as if cleaning them before placing them on the counter.

“So, you’re ready to pick something out?” he asks.

The way he leans forward, putting his weight on his palms causes his forearms to flex and Yuri can’t help but stare at them. He follows the length of one up and over his bicep, taking note of how the shirtsleeve clings to the muscle, and up and over his shoulder to his clavicle. Yuri hesitates as he determines if he’ll follow the sternocleidomastoid up to the florist’s face or follow the sternum down to his chest which is layered in fabric.

He choses up.

His eyes rake over the man’s neck to his jaw. There’s a bit of stubble on it. Dark, inviting. Yuri follows the line down to his chin and up to his lips as the man’s tongue darts out to lick them.

Yuri’s breath hitches and he snaps his eyes away, staring at the man’s hands on the counter, which is an absolute mistake because now Yuri wonders what they’d feel like on his skin. _Fuck_.

“I’m Otabek.” The voice is softer this time.

“Y-Yuri,” he stammers like an idiot. As soon as he says his name, he mentally smacks himself because Otabek already knows who he is.

Otabek chuckles. “I know.”

“Otabek. Khazakh?”

“Uzbek, actually. But I am from Kazakhstan. You are Russian, like Victor, yes?”

“I am.” Yuri has never been good with small talk, and standing in the shop with Otabek makes him uncomfortable. He wishes he weren’t so awkward.

“What do you have in mind?”

Yuri’s not sure he heard correctly, because he thinks there was a flirtatious tone to Otabek’s statement, and what he really wants to say is _I want you to fuck me over the counter_ , and he’s not entirely certain that’s something you should just blurt out regardless of whether or not it’s what he actually thinks.

“For the boutonniere.” There’s a twinkle in Otabek’s eyes that Yuri hopes he didn’t imagine.

“Blue,” Yuri spits out. _Suave_ , he chastises himself.

Otakbek smiles. “I remember. Any particular flower or design that you want?” He leans forward and his shirt gaps at the neck exposing the slightest hint of his chest.

Yuri’s eyes dip down to the gap. They close for a moment and he takes a breath to steady himself. When he opens them again, there is a predatory look to Otabek’s smile, he’s certain of it, and he has no idea what to do next.

If he continues to stand there saying nothing, it’ll be awkward. If he tries to speak he doesn’t think anything intelligent will come forth. He should just turn and leave. Just walk out right now and forget what an idiot he is. He can go buy a rose at the grocery store the morning of the wedding and pin it to his lapel. That’s the easiest solution.

He’s just about ready to make his legs move when Otabek says, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“What?” he asks stupidly. That couldn’t be right.

“Dinner. Tonight. With me.” Otabek pushes off the counter and he plays with his fingertips as if nervous about Yuri’s answer.

Yuri is absolutely dumbfounded, but he manages to get out a quiet “Yes.”

Otabek’s smile is blinding. “I close the shop at six. I can pick you up at seven?”

“What about the boutonniere?”

“We can talk about that tonight. Or tomorrow.”

 _Jesus Christ_ , Yuri thinks as he feels a stirring in his jeans. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Otabek repeats. “See you tonight.”

“Okay.” Yuri manages to move and he starts toward the door when something occurs to him and he turns back to Otabek. “Wait. How do you know where I live?”

“I have the paperwork for the wedding. Your parents’ address is on it.”

“They’re not my parents.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine. See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.”

When the door closes behind him, Yuri tilts his head up to the sky and smiles. He was just asked out on a date! He turns his head to look back into the shop but thinks better of it.

What he misses is the look of utter relief on Otabek’s face.

**~oOo~**

Victor and Yuuri pepper him with questions as soon as he gets home. He barely has time to put his backpack down before their back and forth starts.

“Well, how did it go?” Victor starts.

“What did you pick out?” Yuuri asks.

“What did you think of the shop?”

“Did you pick out something pretty?”

“What did you think of Otabek?”

“Victor!”

And there it is. The reason they wanted him to go to the shop and pick out his own boutonniere. They were playing matchmaker. Because of course they were.

“What?” Victor asks, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to know if he got along with the florist. That’s all.”

“Bah!” Yuri dismisses them outright and stomps down the hall to his room.

He hates them. Mostly.

Yuri flops face down on the bed with a small _oof_. He grabs a large plush orange cat and pulls it to his chest, resting his chin on its head and staring at the knot in the wood of his headboard until it goes fuzzy at the edges.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t hate them quite as much as he just let on. Otabek seems nice and god, is he _hot_. They probably wouldn’t have met otherwise. Maybe they would have crossed paths at the wedding, but he doubts it.

He glances over at the clock. He’s got a little over three hours before his date.

He smiles.

Date. Yuri Plisetsky has a date. An actual date. And he has no idea what to do on one. He’s had a hookup or two, sure, but not a _date_ date.

He wonders what they’ll do. Dinner? Movie? They’re cliche, but he can’t help but hope it’s just a movie. Then he won’t really have to talk too much and worry about making a fool out of himself.

The knock he figured was coming happens. “Come,” he says with a sigh.

Yuuri pushes the door open slightly. “You okay?” he asks tentatively.

Yuri rolls on his side, taking the cat with him. He knows Yuuri well enough by now that he makes room for him to sit on the bed with him. He props his head on his hand, the other one clutching the cat for comfort.

Yuuri predictably sits in the middle of the bed. He never sits at the end when he comes in for these talks. He wants to be as comforting to Yuri as he can, and that means sitting in the middle of the bed, where he can touch Yuri’s arm.

At least, that’s what Yuri assumes. It could just be that Yuuri is just as socially awkward as he is and has no idea that it’s too close. Why Yuri hasn’t corrected him, he’s not sure.

“You’re mad.”

Yuri snorts his agreement.

“I promise this wasn’t a set up.”

“Did you tell that to Victor?”

Yuuri sighs. “We went to Beka’s -”

“Beka’s?” Yuri straightens up.

“The florist?”

“I didn’t know the name of the place.”

“Of course you did. We told you where to go.”

“No, you gave me an address.”

“Ah.” He furrows his brow a moment. “You didn’t notice the sign?”

“It was broken. Beka, huh?”

Yuuri smiles. “We went in ready to choose everything that day.”

“What happened?”

“Otabek stepped away to get his portfolio and Victor -”

“Of course.” It’s always Victor.

“He asked if you could pick out your own boutonniere. He said he wanted you to feel more part of the wedding. It was only after we left that he told me he hoped you and Otabek would hit it off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not that Yuri is really all that mad. He just wants to be kept in the loop. He probably wouldn’t have even have minded if he’d known. Well, maybe a little.

“I - I don’t know,” Yuuri says after a moment. “Victor and I, we kind of thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”

Yuri’s stomach drops. Was Otabek doing them a favor? Did he even want to go on a date at all? “Did you tell Otabek to ask me on a date?”

“What? No! We hoped -” Yuuri stops mid-sentence. He narrows his eyes and smirks. “Otabek asked you out?”

Shit. He let that slip. “Don’t tell -”

“Victor!”

“Victor,” he finishes weakly. He rolls over onto his stomach again, the cat under him, his face in the pillow.

A moment later, Victor pops into the room, too. “Is Yurio okay?”

“Otabek asked him out.” The mirth in Yuuri’s voice makes Yuri want to vomit.

“Oh, really?” Victor asks. Yuri can practically hear Victor vibrating with energy. He’s like a giant puppy sometimes. “When is the date?”

Yuri ignores them. He thinks that if he’s quiet long enough, they’ll just go away. Realistically, it’ll never happen, but he can still hope.

“Yurio?” Yuri prods.

“Tell us!” The bed dips as Victor sits, too.

Yuri groans and says a muffled _tonight_ into the pillow. His parents’ back and forth begins.

“Tonight!” Victor exclaims. “That soon?”

“What will you wear?” Yuuri asks.

“Something comfortable.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Something with an air of mystery.”

Yuri pushes himself up and glares at them. “I will wear whatever I want. Now. OUT!”

He’s somewhat surprised when they actually listen to him and leave. _That was odd_ , he thinks. He shrugs it off, but now that they’ve put the bug in his ear, he really has no idea what he should wear.

He glances toward the closet, regretting that he doesn’t have much of anything that would fall under business casual. He doesn’t want to wear a t-shirt since that may be too casual, and a jacket may be overdressed.

He picks through the rack of shirts, deciding on a plain black t-shirt to wear under a white button-down with black jeans and black suspenders. If what they’re doing is casual, the shirt can go.

Decision made on his attire, he takes a whiff of his pits. Not bad, but he could probably stand a shower. Not that he actually _has_ to, but just in case....

**~oOo~**

At ten minutes to seven, Yuri is fully dressed and ready to go. He sits on the edge of the bed, his foot bouncing in anticipation. He’s checked himself in the mirror at least six times in the past five minutes. His body thrums with anticipation and his leg bounces up and down with nerves.

Yuri closes his eyes and tries to think of nothing, simply focusing on his own breathing in hopes that it will calm him somewhat. He breathes deeply and slowly, focusing on the oxygen entering and leaving his body.

It works. His heart gradually beats slower, and his leg slows its rhythm to a steady beat rather than a frenzied jiggle. Another couple of inhalations, and he thinks he can do this. This date will be fine.

Until he hears the roar of an engine outside.

Yuri springs up and over to the window. His hand darts out to move the curtain, but he catches himself and he peeks out around the fabric. What he sees takes his breath away.

Otabek straddles an idling motorcycle. He takes off the helmet and places it on one of the handlebars and then turns off the engine.

Yuri stares, mouth agape. The man is gorgeous. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a grey v-neck shirt, topped with a leather jacket and scarf. As the man swings his leg over the machine, Yuri shakes himself out of his trance.

He can’t let Victor and Yuuri get to him. He’s got to make it to the front door before they do. Yuri grabs his jacket off the bed and sprints toward the living room.

“Don’t wait up!” he cries before his parents can say anything.

The door slams behind him and Yuri throws on his jacket as he rushes over to Otabek. “Davai!”

Otabek hops back on the cycle and hands Yuri a helmet and they quickly strap them on. And with a roar of the engine, Otabek takes off into the night.

 **~oOo~**  

Otabek’s smile is cut short as he sees the way Yuri is rushing out of his house. When he shouts “Davai!” Otabek kicks into autopilot and ensures Yuri is secure and helmeted before he pulls away from the house.

He’s not sure what’s happening, but the urgency in Yuri’s voice told him something was up. When they’re a few blocks away, Otabek shouts over his shoulder to Yuri.

“You okay?”

“Da. I didn’t want to be interrogated by my parents.”

Otabek nods as he continues to the cafe he’d chosen. He smirks as he remembers wanting nothing to do with his parents, too.

A few blocks down the road and Otabek is aware of the heat radiating off Yuri and he sits up straighter. Part of him wishes Yuri would hold onto him while riding, but if he did, Otabek thinks he might have issues getting off the bike when they reach the cafe.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the cafe and they happen to find a spot right out front. It’s only a few short blocks away from the flower shop, and Otabek frequents the cafe. He’s always excited when he can introduce someone new to its delights.

“The Golden Pear?” Yuri asks as he slips off the bike holding on to Otabek’s shoulder for balance. “Sounds pretentious.”

“A little,” he replies. “But it’s very good.”

Otabek hesitates. He’s not sure if he should lead the way and hold the door for Yuri or if he should let Yuri lead and then slip in front of him to open the door. He decides to lead and hold the door. As Yuri passes by him, Otabek places his hand on the small of his back before he realizes what he’s doing and quickly removes it. Yuri doesn’t say anything, so maybe he didn’t notice it.

There is a large group of people waiting to be seated and Otabek guesses it will be about a half an hour before they’re seated. Much to his surprise, they’re seated right away. When he tries to protest to the hostess, she explains they’re all together and are waiting for two tables to open that are next to each other.

The hostess leads the way to a small table by the front window, Yuri after her, Otabek bringing up the rear, trying not to stare at Yuri’s ass. He fails miserably.

“Here we are,” the hostess says. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.” She places menus in front of them before she goes back to the reception stand.

Otabek sits and then removes his jacket, laying it open over the back of the chair. Yuri removes his jacket before he sits and Otabek can’t help but stare at him. He’s beautiful. Lean and lithe, the t-shirt under the button-up hugging his chest.

But it’s the suspenders that nearly undo him. No one wears suspenders, and yet Yuri does. Otabek’s mind wanders and he imagines using them to bind Yuri and he needs to stop that line of thinking or else he’s going to be in real trouble.

“You okay?” Yuri asks as he sits.

Otabek shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Yes. Sorry. You look nice.”

Yuri blushes. He ducks his head down as he says, “Thank you. So do you.”

“Thank you.”

There’s an awkward silence before they both attempt a bit of small talk at the same time. They laugh at their awkwardness and Otabek starts again as he picks up a menu. Yuri does the same.

“How was the rest of your day?” He assumes that’s neutral enough territory.

“Okay,” Yuri says. Otabek doesn’t quite believe it and is about to ask when Yuri continues. “Yuuri and Victor kept bugging me about the date.”

“I’m sure they mean well.”

“They are annoying.”

“They’re your parents. It’s part of their job to be annoying.”

“Even more so with the wedding. They were already gross with each other, but it’s worse since they got engaged.”

“It’ll be over soon,” Otabek says. He’s seen more than a few couples in love dial up the sweetness much to the chagrin of everyone around them. He’s about to explain that when their waitress comes over.

“Hi, I’m Minako and I’ll be - Oh, Otabek! Hi!”

Of course their waitress would be Minako. He likes her well enough, but she tends to gush over him.

“Hi, Minako. How are you?”

“I’m good.” She eyes Yuri. “Are you going to introduce me?”

Otabek rolls his eyes and he notices that Yuri blushes again. “Yuri, this is Minako. Minako, this is Yuri. My date.” He emphasizes that last part in case she couldn’t figure it out on her own.

“Nice to meet you, Yuri,” she says, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“You, too.”

Minako slips into a more professional tone. “What can I get you to drink?”

“My usual,” Otabek replies.

“One Klinskoye Svetloe. And for you?”

Yuri looks at Otabek with surprise. “They have Russian beer?”

“They do, and you’re not twenty-one,” he answers playfully.

“Jerk,” Yuri mutters. “Just a soda please.”

“Gotcha. Be right back!” And she’s off.

“You didn’t have to tell her I’m not twenty-one, you know.” His pout is adorable.

“I did, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t going to.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

They stare at each other for a moment and Otabek isn’t sure that he did the right thing. After all, he’s having a beer himself.

When Minako returns with their drinks, Otabek asks if she will take it back and bring him a soda, too. Her face scrunches up in confusion, but she does as he asks.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Yuri says.

“No, but at least this way we’ll be on equal footing for the night.” The way Yuri’s face brightens tells Otabek that he made the right decision.

 **~oOo~**  

After a couple of false starts, their conversation settles and Yuri begins to feel more comfortable with Otabek. He can’t remember the last time he felt so at ease with someone.

Yuri orders the beef stew, while Otabek chooses the crab cakes. They sample off of each other’s plates, Yuri doing it before he even asks Otabek if it’s okay. Otabek simply skewers a chunk of potato in return. They end up giggling at themselves.

He pretends he doesn’t feel butterflies in his belly.

Before he realizes it, however, Maniko brings the check to the table. Yuri doesn’t want the date to be over. He likes talking to Otabek. He likes _looking_ at Otabek. He feels his cock twitch and he blushes despite himself.

They reach for the check at the same time, Yuri’s hand landing on top of Otabek’s. Yuri freezes, his fingers resting on top of Otabek’s. He’s almost positive the air around them is charged with electricity.

“Let me,” Otabek says. “It was my idea.” When Yuri doesn’t answer right away, Otabek adds, “You can get it next time.”

_There’s going to be a next time._

“Okay.” His cheeks heat again and he curses himself for it. He shouldn’t be so damned embarrassed.

Otabek glances at the total and lays some cash on the tray. When Minako picks it up he says it’s all for her. She smiles brightly, so Yuri assumes he tipped well.

They’re quiet as they stand and put their jackets back on. Otabek tries to let Yuri lead the way out, but Yuri insists that Otabek go first. He’d been self-conscious on the way in, imagining Otabek checking him out. This way, he gets to check out Otabek.

He’s not disappointed. Otabek’s jacket just barely covers the waistband of his pants giving him a perfect view of his ass. The black cloth hugs it slightly, giving Yuri just enough of an outline. He wonders what the cheeks would feel like in his hands.

His shoulder bumps with someone being seated. He mutters an apology to the man. He’d been so distracted by Otabek’s ass that he effectively ended up with tunnel vision on it. _Dumbass._

Otabek holds the door open for him and he slips through, angling himself sideways and he brushes against his chest. One more muttered apology and he’s ready to sink into the ground.

“You okay?” the florist asks. “You seem distracted.”

Yuri flips up his hood and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” he manages as he starts towards the bike. Otabek touches his arm.

“This way.” Otabek cocks his head in the opposite direction. “I wanted to show you something.”

Yuri furrows his brow in confusion. He’d assumed the date was over and he was going to be taken home, never to hear from Otabek again. He nods and falls into step next to him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Otabek smiles slyly.

They walk in silence and Yuri wonders the entire time if he should say something. Their conversation at the restaurant came easily, but right now, he can’t think of a single thing to talk about.

After a couple of blocks, Yuri realizes he’s being led to the flower shop. He’s confused at first, but he realizes that not once during dinner did they talk about the boutonniere for the wedding. He decides that’s the most logical explanation, even if he was hoping to talk about it tomorrow.

He smiles and he feels his cheeks flush at the thought. Otabek playfully asks him what he’s thinking about and Yuri blushes harder as he ducks his head down for a couple of paces.

As they approach the shop, Yuri points toward the sign. “What happened to the sign?” he asks. Changing the subject feels like the best option.

They stop in front of the shop and Otabek looks up at the broken marquee. “It was apparently loose on one side, and that storm we had last week caught it just right and it snapped off. The new one should be ready to install in a couple of weeks.”

Otabek opens the door and holds it open for Yuri before locking it again. There’s enough illumination from the street that he doesn’t turn on the lights. Yuri has to follow closely so he doesn’t trip on anything.

He’s lead behind the counter and to the back room. Otabek turns on the lights and he’s momentarily blinded.

“Sorry,” Otabek apologizes.

When his eyes adjust, Yuri takes everything in. Counters and a small sink run along the left and back wall and there’s an island in the middle of the room strewn with foam blocks and green tape along with a single leaf that was apparently missed in the day’s clean up.

Otabek grabs a small pad and pencil from the counter and leans on it. He motions for Yuri to sit on the island.

A quick look at the legs confirm that the island won’t move and Yuri hops up easily, his legs dangling over the side. He places his hands on the edge and leans forward. He feels exposed.

“We didn’t talk about the boutonniere,” Otabek says. “I want to get a quick sketch for the design.”

“Okay.” He swings his legs nervously. Not too much - he’s got to keep it under control, but just enough to make it seem like he’s being casual about the stop at the store.

You’re overthinking. He knows it but doesn’t know how to adjust his thoughts. He’s trying to be as normal as possible.

“You didn’t really mention any hobbies earlier,” Otabek says as he sketches. “Other than music and movies, what do you enjoy doing?”

“Well….”

“Yes?”

“I enjoy ice skating.” He winces when hears the pencil stop moving on the page. He knows it’s a stupid hobby.

“Really?” Yuri nods. “That’s cool. How often do you get to go?”

“Not very since school started.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes.” He really does. It’s one of the few things that help him truly relax.

“I’d like to see you skate.”

“I’m out of practice.”

“It’ll be just like riding a bike.”

They’re quiet for a long moment and Yuri can’t help but think that he’d like to skate for Otabek. He listens to the sound of the pencil sketching away on the paper and he notes that it sounds similar to the sounds of blades on the ice.

“What do you think?” Otabek asks. He turns the sketchpad to Yuri.

The boutonniere he’s drawn centers around a rose with smaller flowers surrounding it. Yuri doesn’t know what the other flowers are. The arrangement is tied together with a bow and pair of ice skates dangling from them.

Otabek points to the smaller flowers. “These are forget-me-nots. They’re blue. The same color the bow will be.”

Yuri reaches toward the pad. “The skates -” He can’t finish his thought, but he loves them.

“One of my suppliers has a collection of charms. This will make it more personal to you. If you don’t like it, I can find something else.”

“No!” Yuri dials it back a bit. “No. I love them. It’s perfect.”

**~oOo~**

Otabek breathes a sigh of relief. Yuri likes his design. It wasn’t too involved, kind of simple really, but with the addition of the skating charm, he’d hoped to make it more to his liking.

“Good,” he says. Otabek sets down the pad and pencil. _It’s now or never._

He takes a step toward Yuri who doesn’t seem to notice. He lays a hand on Yuri’s knee and takes another half a step toward him. His other hand goes to Yuri’s chin and lifts his face so he can look into those beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m glad you like it,” Otabek whispers, leaning forward just enough so his lips barely brush Yuri’s. He feels Yuri stiffen and he immediately backs off, apologizing as he does so.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , Otabek thinks. He must have misread Yuri’s subtle signals. Otabek hasn’t been on an actual date in almost a year, so he chalks it up to being out of practice.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again. He turns back to the counter, trying to come up with something else to say.

“Beka.”

He hears Yuri slide quietly off the island to the floor. The warmth of his body presses against his side, and Yuri’s hand covers his. Otabek turns to look down at Yuri and finds the teen smiling at him.

Maybe he hadn’t misjudged Yuri at all.

As they turn to face each other, their hands have to part, and Otabek takes the opportunity to brush his knuckles over Yuri’s cheek. His hand strays to Yuri’s hair and he pushes a strand away from Yuri’s eyes, the hoodie preventing him from going too far.

Yuri pulls the hood down with one hand, the other gently taking Otabek’s fingers, pulling them down to his lips and kissing him.

 _Jesus Christ._ Otabek sucks in a breath, his cock twitching at the contact. Yuri’s lips are soft on his fingers, and just a bit moist. Otabek feels the loss of heat when Yuri pulls away.

He thinks, not for the first time that night, that Yuri is absolutely beautiful. His eyes, that cornflower hair, his high cheekbones. He can’t help but imagine what he’ll look like spread out beneath him, covered in a sheen of sweat.

Yuri steps in closer so that they are now chest to chest and it’s Otabek’s turn to blush because he knows that Yuri can feel his erection. And then he realizes that Yuri is just as hard and he smiles.

“Can we do that again?” Yuri asks. His cheeks flush beautifully.

“Absolutely.” Otabek’s relief is almost overwhelming.

And just like that Yuri surges forward those last few inches and kisses Otabek fiercely.

It takes him a moment to catch up and when he does, Otabek thanks his lucky stars and kisses Yuri back just as hard.

He’d waited all day for this, thinking about kissing Yuri. He hadn’t dared think of anything more, lest he set his hopes too high.

The kiss is all tongue and teeth and want and need as they grind into each other. Otabek’s hands grip Yuri’s ass and squeeze, and he’s rewarded with a low groan. He does it once more and Yuri leaps up, wrapping his legs around Otabek.

Yuri’s hands explore his hair, making Otabek wish it were longer so that Yuri had something he could really grasp onto.

Otabek spins and sets Yuri back down on the island. He misses the feel of Yuri’s ass on his palms, but when the blonde says _yebat' menya_ all rational thoughts fly right out of Otabek’s head.

If Yuri Plisetsky wants to be fucked, then by god, Otabek is going to fuck him.

“Da.”

Yuri makes quick work of his jacket and hoodie while Otabek follows suit. Both men toss them on the counter.

Otabek slips a finger under one of the straps of the suspenders and runs it up and down the length of the elastic.

“Do you have any idea what these do to me?” he asks.

Yuri shakes his head. A quick snap of the strap causes him to inhale deeply as if he hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling.

“Do that again,” Yuri says a little breathlessly.

“What? This?” Otabek snaps the other strap, thrilled when Yuri gasps again. The sounds Yuri makes are delightful. “I want to bind you with them.” Another groan. “You like that?”

Yuri’s voice is hoarse but he manages to get out a yes.

They kiss again, still needy, but not quite as frenzied as their first one. Yuri tugs at the hem of Otabek’s shirt, coaxing it up, and Otabek strips it off, tossing it in the direction of their coats. He doesn’t care if it landed in a pile of soil, just so long as he got the damned thing off.

Yuri pushes him back, and runs his palms down Otabek’s torso. Otabek’s shiver has nothing to do with the coolness of the shop. When Yuri’s fingers reach his waistband, he dips two inside and gives it a tug. It’s enough to make Otabek sway a bit.

Otabek’s mind races through at least a dozen different scenarios of what he wants to do to Yuri. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a logical progression of sex, but he’ll be damned if he can remember what that is.

Yuri pops the button on Otabek’s jeans and he slides off the island. Otabek thinks he’s going to be kissed again, but Yuri surprises him and kisses his collarbone instead. He peppers Otabek’s skin with kisses as he practically slithers down to his knees.

 _Oh, god_. The feel of Yuri’s lips on his body make his knees weak and he has to lean back on the counter, his hands finding the edge and gripping it tightly. Yuri shuffles on his knees in front of him and Otabek palms his cock to stave off the orgasm he can already feel building.

Yuri grabs his jeans at the thighs and gently pulls them down to his knees. His underwear is already damp with precome, and Yuri practically buries his nose in the fabric, taking a deep whiff of Otabek’s scent.

Otabek’s head falls back as he runs a hand through Yuri’s hair, giving it a little yank. Yuri makes a little hum of contentment at the gesture.

He feels Yuri’s fingers grip the waistband of his boxer briefs, fisting the material before slowly lowering it. Yuri slides it over his ass first, then pulls on it enough to free his cock. Otabek continues to look at the ceiling.

“Beka,” Yuri says.

He looks down, fingers still in Yuri’s hair. Yuri looks up at him, takes his cock in his hand and flicks the slit with his tongue. Otabek’s fingers curl tighter into Yuri’s hair. Yuri takes the head into his mouth, still looking up at him.

“Jesus,” Otabek whispers as Yuri swallows him down, managing to take most of his shaft into his mouth.

Otabek stares, slack-jawed as he watches his dick slide in and out of Yuri’s mouth. The hand gripping the counter releases its death grip and it joins the other hand on Yuri’s head. His hips pump shallowly so he doesn’t hurt Yuri.

Yuri pulls off his dick and before Otabek can protest, Yuri says, “Fuck my mouth.”

“Fuuuuuck.”

That may as well have been an engraved invitation. Otabek thrusts harder, feeling his shaft hit the back of Yuri’s throat. Yuri makes only the slightest of noises, so he thrusts a few more times before pulling out enough for Yuri to get a breath.

Three or four more times and Otabek has to pull Yuri off his dick before he comes. He’s so close and he doesn’t want it to end just yet, so he pulls Yuri up and kisses him once more.

 **~oOo~**  

Yuri has about had it and needs to get the show on the road.

He allows Otabek to kiss him for a moment, but soon shoves him away, a confused look on his face. It won’t be there long.

Yuri slips his thumbs under the suspenders and deftly slides them off his shoulders. He looks forward to whatever it is Otabek wants to do with them. He makes quick work of his shirts, tossing them who knows where.

He’s about to undo his pants when he takes a good look at Otabek’s face. The man is staring at him like he’s going to eat Yuri up. Yuri is so on board with that plan.

He stops undressing and slows his pace, making the unbuttoning of his pants a tease. He catches Otabek squeezing the base of his cock and he thinks _I’m doing that to him._

He shimmies down his pants and underwear to his knees. He grabs hold of his dick and the two men stare at each other while jerking themselves off. It’s quite possibly the hottest thing Yuri has ever done.

When he can’t take it anymore, Yuri turns around and bends over the island. He looks over his shoulder and says “Fuck me, Beka.”

He hears the man growl and suddenly there’s Otabek draped over him, his cock pressing into the small of his back. He feels a hand wrap around his throat, the other grasping his cock and pumping it.

“With pleasure.”

Yuri shudders as Otabek releases him and slides down his lithe frame, fingers dancing over his skin. When he reaches Yuri’s ass, he kisses first one cheek, then the other, back and forth until they become single kisses down Yuri’s crack.

And that’s when he realizes Otabek is about to rim him.

The thought hardly finishes when he feels his cheeks part and Otabek’s tongue is on his hole, giving it little kitten licks.

Yuri has never been rimmed before. None of the partners he was with were interested in it. It’s ten times better than he ever imagined.

He gasps when Otabek’s tongue probes his hole and slips in just a smidge.

And now it’s Yuri’s turn to squeeze the base of his cock so as not to spend too quickly. He feels the tongue stab at his opening and he pushes his ass back into Otabek’s face. He thinks Otabek groans but he let out a loud groan himself and isn’t positive.

He arches his back as Otabek spreads him wider. “God, Beka.”

He’s lost in the sensations and it takes a moment to realize that his ass is cold. He looks back over his shoulder to see Otabek still on his knees, fumbling with his pants looking for lube and a condom in the pocket that has been shoved somewhere around his calves.

“My jacket. Left pocket.” Otabek looks up, relief washing over his features.

Yuri puts his head down on his arms, making sure to stick his ass out even more. His hips sway a little and Yuri tells himself that he’s trying to be comely, even though it’s really just nerves. Nerves that he’s about to get fucked by this beautiful man. This man with the dark eyes filled with lust for him.

“Finally.” Otabek says. Yuri hears him shuffling back the few steps and tries his best not to snicker at him.

Otabek places the condom on the island next to Yuri and he hears the packet of lube tear open followed by a “pthth” as Otabek spits out the corner. Another heartbeat passes and he feels some of the lube drizzle down his crack.

There’s a finger at his hole, pushing in slowly. Then back out. Then in. And out. Each time it slides in a little further. Beka’s being gentle, but Yuri needs to speed him up a bit. “More,” he pleads.

Otabek hesitates before pushing another finger in, the pair of digits working him open quickly and, Yuri dares to think, reverently. He starts his own rhythm, pushing back on the fingers, feeling them scissor inside him.

When a third finger joins the other two, it hits his prostate and Yuri cries out. Otabek chuffs smugly.

He’s about to demand that the fucking start when the fingers all disappear, and Otabek reaches for the condom. Yuri watches him from under his arms as he tears it open and rolls it on, slicking his cock up with the rest of the lube.

Yuri lifts his head up, preparing himself for the stretch that’s coming. There’s a hand on his hip as he feels the head at his entrance. Otabek pushes in torturously slow, the slide of his dick hitting all the right spots inside him.

Once he’s fully seated, Otabek pauses for an instant before pulling back out and slamming into Yuri, who manages a strangled cry.

Otabek fucks him hard, fucks him fast, and Yuri shoves himself up off the island, pressing up against Otabek, looking for that perfect angle and - _there it is._

Yuri lets loose with a litany of _Beka_ and _yes_ and various blasphemies as Otabek slips a hand around his torso, resting at the hollow of his throat, the other one going to his dick.

Otabek gnaws on the shell of his ear and that’s what undoes him. Yuri comes with a shout, spending on the island and Otabek’s hand. If he had the capacity to think straight, he’d be embarrassed for coming so soon. He rides out the aftershocks and within a few thrusts, Otabek comes, too.

“God. YURI!”

The men pant from the exertion, neither of them wanting to move and break the spell of the moment, both knowing it has to be done.

Otabek pulls out, taking care to ensure the condom is still in place. He disposes of it quickly and pulls a couple of paper towels off a roll, runs some warm water on them and cleans off himself, then Yuri, who starts at the touch.

“Sensitive?”

“A little, yeah.”

They pull up their pants and make themselves look at least somewhat presentable. Neither of them wants Yuuri and Victor to know what they were doing.

Yuri braces himself for the inevitable brush-off. Despite what he said earlier, Yuri doesn’t really think that Otabek really wants another date. He got what he wanted.

He doesn’t know that Otabek’s thoughts race with the numerous dates he wants to take him on. Ice skating is at the top of the list.

“Do you want -”

“I guess we should -”

They both open up at the same time, stop and laugh at each other.

“You first,” Yuri says. _May as well get it over with._

Otabek ducks his head and eyes the flotsam on the island behind Yuri. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the rink this weekend.”

“What? Why?” His words come out harsher than he intended.

Otabek flinches, but responds with understanding. “Because I like you. I thought we had a nice time at dinner.” He steps into Yuri’s personal space, boxing him into the island’s edge. “And what we just did?” He puts his lips at Yuri’s ear and whispers, “I’d like to do that again.”

Yuri leans back awkwardly to look him in the eye. “You would?”

“I would. When you first came into my shop? You were focused. You had the eyes of a soldier. I wanted to fuck you right then.” He nuzzles Yuri’s neck and is rewarded with a shiver.

“But my fathers -”

“Probably set us up, yes.” He kisses Yuri’s neck, and up to his jaw. When he gets to his lips, he hovers and looks into Yuri’s eyes. “I still want to see you again.”

Yuri closes the gap between them and they kiss tenderly. His cock gives a valiant twitch, and he smiles, breaking the kiss.

“Should we get you home?” Otabek asks.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I don’t have to, you know. I’m eighteen.”

“Yes, but I want Yuuri and Victor to like me.”

Yuri sighs dramatically. “Fine.” _Stupid boyfriends_. He gently pushes Otabek away and he grabs his coat, tugging it on.

“One request, though?” Otabek asks, doing the same with his jacket.

“What’s that?”

“Hold on to me when you’re on the bike. I don’t want you to fall off.” It’s clear that’s not the real reason at all.

“I can do that.”

“Will you do something for me?” Yuri’s heart pounds in his chest. He can’t believe he’s going to do it. “Will you be my date for the wedding?”

Otabek sucks in a breath. “I’d love to.”

They kiss again and Otabek takes his hand as he leads him out of the shop.

 **~oOo~**  

 

“Stop fidgeting!” Yuuri says. “You’re going to make me rip the shirt.”

“GOOD!” Yuri shouts. “I don’t want to wear it anyway.”

Yuri is wearing his shirt inside out. It’s too big and Yuuri is trying to make it look a little more polished before the wedding.

Which is in an hour.

Victor spent the night with Chris at Yuuri’s superstitious insistence, and it’s just the two of them at the house.

Yuuri pins the extra fabric quickly, the sewing machine already set up and ready to go. He’s only going to baste the shirt, so it should be finished within minutes.

If Yuri will stop moving.

“Yurio!

He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes for good measure, but he stops to allow Yuuri to finish pinning.

_Ding dong._

“Who could that be?” Yuuri asks as he sits at the machine.

“I’ll get it.” As he opens the door, he’s pleasantly surprised by their guest. “Beka,” he smiles.

Otabek takes note of Yuri’s naked torso and swallows. “Bad time?” he asks.

“Yuuri is fixing my shirt.” He steps out of the way so Otabek can enter.

“Hi Otabek,” Yuuri says as he sews up one side of the garment.

“I thought you’d meet me at the venue.”

“I finished setting up and came to bring your boutonniere.” He holds the small white rose up and Yuri touches the soft petals and gives the charm a little flick.

“I love it,” he says. He starts to puff out his chest to allow Otabek to pin it on him, quickly realizing he’s bare-chested.

“Almost done,” Yuuri calls.

“That was fast.”

A few snips and a knot and the shirt is ready. Yuuri shakes it out and turns it right side out. “It just needed a tweak, that’s all. I’ll make it permanent after we get back from the honeymoon.”

Yuri slips the shirt on. He fumbles with the buttons when Otabek sets down the boutonniere and steps in to help him. “I can do it,” Yuri pouts.

“I’m sure you can, Yurio, but I enjoy helping you.” Otabek looks like he could eat him up.

“I do not want to know,” Yuuri says. He covers his eyes pretending to be outraged.

“You shush,” Yuri chastises. “Where’s my tie?” Yuuri picks it up off the sofa and hands it to him, still covering his eyes.

“The clothes are going _on_ , Mr. Katsuki.” He chuckles and finishes buttoning Yuri’s shirt. He runs his hand down the front, smoothing out the fabric. “It looks good.” He takes the tie from Yuri and slips it around his neck, tying it efficiently.

Yuri tucks his shirt in as Otabek picks up the jacket. He holds it up for him to slide into. Once it’s on, Otabek admires him for a moment. “You look amazing.”

Yuri blushes deeply. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s get this on you.” Otabek reaches for the flowers and starts to pin them on Yuri’s lapel.

_Click_

“YUURI!”

“It’s just like prom.” Yuuri examines the picture he just snapped on his phone. “I need another one. This one’s a little blurry.”

“No.”

“Get used to it,” Otabek says. “There’s going to be a lot more taken today.” He leans in and kisses his boyfriend.

_Click_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Cymeteria](http://cymeteria.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful artwork. 
> 
> And a huge shout out to [Metatron-the-Transformer](http://metatron-the-transformer.tumblr.com/) for the last minute beta.


End file.
